


side view mirror / blind spot

by fakenewsies (bigsleepsuperhighway)



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Relationship, albert hates biology and hes right, feelings if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsleepsuperhighway/pseuds/fakenewsies
Summary: Something weird and warm and clean lights itself in Albert's stomach. At the idea of Finch helping him 'cause he wants to help him, not to repay a favor. The two of them not owing each other anything.
Relationships: Albert DaSilva/Finch (Newsies)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	side view mirror / blind spot

**Author's Note:**

> another request from my tumblr that turned out LITERALLY so long idk why i keep doing this-
> 
> song the title is from is 'glitterbug' by the wombats btw!!!

"Fuck," Finch forces out, his hand twitching as it flies over his cock. His teeth grit so his jaw bulges out, and Albert has to drop his head to Finch's shoulder so he doesn't get lightheaded. "I'm, like—really close, dude."

"You are  _ not," _ Albert says. Bites hard at the meat of Finch's shoulder to punctuate it, which makes him writhe, clench tight around Albert's cock.

Technically, they're supposed to be doing homework.

Albert's not so good at science, so he'd cashed in a favor and had Finch come over to help him take his biology notes. And they  _ had _ started out that way, honest; Albert needed his scholarship, so they'd been working, working like they said they would be.

They made decent progress for a while. Finch was better at science- and math-type stuff, even if he was a hardass trust fund baby who, like,  _ could not _ take a joke. But then he made some stupid comment about how Albert's Southern accent came out when he was frustrated, which made him get all worked up and drawl even harder, but of course Finch started blushing and said he wasn't trying to insult him 'cause he thought it was hot, and did he want to take a break, and Albert was just pissed enough at his bio notes to take him up on it.

Lord knew they weren't working now.

"Yeah..."

"It's been, what, like, no time at all. One pump chump—"

Finch tosses his head back so the long line of his neck is all stretched out. Breathes fast. "It's cool, I'll just get it up again in, like, thirty seconds." He wriggles a little, flushing hard. A vein's popping out in his neck. "Are you—don't  _ stop." _

Albert ignores him for a second. "You're a fucking idiot," he tells him, feeling his shoulder tremble from the short, aborted little strokes he's trying to give himself. Albert's tempted to bat his hand away so he doesn't come, but. "You can really do two in one go?"

Finch shifts. "Yeah. Most of the time, I guess. But, like, two's kinda it, then."

Albert breathes in. He smells like something clean and sharp. Taut. Rife with tension. Something herby, maybe, if he had to guess. Whatever it is, he can taste it when he licks up under Finch's jaw, which makes him moan and falter in his frantic movements. "Two's all good."

When Albert starts to fuck him again, the hand Finch isn't using to stroke himself goes right to the bedsheets and grabs hold. His knuckles go white and hard and a strangled little sound ekes its way out of his throat, his eyes squeezed shut, and Albert has to shut his eyes too.  _ Tight. _ Hot. Albert hasn't had proper sex like this in far too long.

They're supposed to be doing homework.

It's alright, though. Albert thinks he'd take bombing his next 3 tests for the way Finch looks right now, all red and needy and under him, taking it like a fucking champ. Can't shut up during a fuck to save his life, but at least they're not in the  _ dorms. _

_ "God," _ Finch sobs. His eyes open and meet Albert's, and Albert can hardly help his hips stuttering at the  _ look _ in them. Wild, nearly. "C'mere—c'mere, let me—"

He kisses Albert for a moment, hot and open. Not really a kiss. More of just Finch crying against his mouth like he'll die if he doesn't, and he feels  _ so _ good. So, so good, though Albert wouldn't tell him that for fear his stupid rich-kid ego would get even bigger than it already is.

So savage is this thought, though, that Albert pants and pulls back. Stops kissing Finch, even though he whines. "Come on," he snarls, almost, letting his mouth run loose just to see what Finch will look like when he does. "Come on. Yeah. Wanna watch you come, let me see it."

That does it. Fuck, that does it twice over. Finch positively howls, clenching around Albert's dick so tight it hurts, nearly, and stripes his stomach and his own hand with white. Albert fucks him through it, gnaws at the cord of his long neck because he can't help wanting to hurt him just a little. In a way that's good. That he wants, too.

Finch clutches at him. Scratches at his shoulderblades, which makes Albert hiss. "Alright, alright— _ god, _ fuck, just gimme a second," he whispers, and Albert slows it down so Finch can catch his breath.

A long moment. There's a tightness building right below Albert's hips that he registers only now, after Finch has stopped him.

"Jesus, you're still hard," Albert says without thinking.

"What?" Finch says blearily, his fingers absentmindedly combing through the mess on his stomach. "Oh, yeah."

"It hurt any?"

Finch's mouth twitches wryly up at him. He chews his lip. Chest heaving, sweat tacky on his ribs. "No."

Albert's own chest kind of hurts, if he's honest. Seeing Finch's cock still flushed and wet and curving up flat on his stomach. He looks even better fucked out, his eyes shiny. Wanting, still.

"You good to go yet?"

"Just gimme a second," Finch repeats. His thumb presses into Albert's hipbone like a warning.

Albert's panting too. Closer than he'd been before, certainly, and Finch all pliant and sweet-eyed from his orgasm isn't helping. Neither is the heartbeat Albert can feel from inside him. Strange to be this close.

"Yeah," Albert replies. "Yeah, okay."

To his credit, Finch hadn't lied about his wicked fast recovery time; before too long at all, Finch is pushing at his hip. "Okay," Finch says, kind of soft, like he's hurt. "Okay, move. Come on."

Albert can't help scoffing at him, even as he complies. "Pushy."

But the  _ sound _ Finch makes when he does, this long, drawn-out groan with his head thrown back, dark hair frizzing up on white sheets. God. Albert bites the inside of his cheek, fucks him harder so he doesn't have to worry about calling Finch  _ pretty, _ which he's avoided thus far. Nearly lets it slip when Finch puts his knuckles in his mouth, though, which is so hot it nearly makes Albert come right then 'n there.

Still, he tugs his fingers out. Even if it fucks up his rhythm a little. "Naw, fuck that," he says, trying hard not to stutter. "If you're gonna be makin' noise, I wanna hear it. Scream the fuckin' roof down, you think I mind?"

"I have  _ neighbors, _ you fuckin' asshole," Finch gasps, his eyes rolled back as his dick taps against his stomach. "They m-might—they—"

"What's that?" Albert manages, even though he's not quite in a position to be poking fun himself. Tug in his gut, in his cock, and Finch just keeps moaning 'cause Albert wouldn't let him hold it back, and, shit, he's gonna come soon. Both are. Finch for the second time,  _ fuck. _

And Finch can't even answer him, is just letting out these helpless little  _ ah, ah, ahs _ when Albert fucks into him just right, and neither of them are really talking anymore.

They don't for a long time, though Finch can hardly help begging, towards the end. When Albert's holding him open and giving it to him so hard he slurs when he says  _ please, _ when Albert's so close he's reeling with it. So  _ close. _ Feels the edge building in him, high and hard and dizzy. Almost painful how bad he needs it. Can't remember the last time he's needed something like this.

"Gonna come," he grinds out, finally, when he can't hold it anymore, this full-body shiver passing through him. "Gonna come,  _ shit." _

_ "Yeah," _ Finch wails, and he's taking it so well, still, still looks so good. Doesn't even have to try. "Do it. Give it to me, c'mon—there—"

Albert's mouth is on Finch's before he even realizes it. And then he comes, and it crashes into him like a tidal wave, and the sound that leaves him is one that he'll deny making later, though Finch will poke fun. At the moment, though, Albert kisses him hard, sticks his fucking tongue down Finch's throat so he can breathe. Fills the condom in these short little twitches he can't stop himself from making 'cause it's so hot,  _ shit, _ so hot and tight and the kind of good that keeps going. Finch sounds like he's going to cry, the little noises he's making, and Albert groans hard into his mouth. Curses. Feeling slack.

"Albert," Finch gasps. At his name he comes back to himself a little, recognizes the familiar jerk of Finch's shoulder that says he's getting off, he's close. "Albert, fuck,  _ please, _ I, I'm really—"

"Yeah," Albert replies, his mouth loose on Finch's jaw. "Yeah, Finch. Yeah. Lemme take care of you."

The fact that Albert's complete dead weight between his legs is a deterrent, but Finch's hips certainly try to hitch up off the bed. Albert feels the tackiness of his fingers when he lets up a little and reaches down to jerk him off, and then they really  _ do _ hitch up. Rocket upward as Finch comes again, comes so hard he goes completely silent, rigid for a moment, messing all over himself. And then he cries out, long like it's hurting him, and the way his face is screwed up, Albert wouldn't be surprised if it had. Kisses him then, too, maybe to make it better. Maybe just because of the way Finch's mouth tastes.

Eventually, after what feels like an hour but definitely isn't, Albert comes to his senses enough to pull out and strip the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the trash can by Finch's bed. Finch still seems to be blissed  _ all the way out, _ though. Completely in the clouds. Albert kind of gets it, though. Not feelin' too shabby himself.

"Do you want food?" Albert asks, grabbing his phone out of his jeans pocket.

Finch squeezes his eyes shut, rubs them with his non-spunk hand. "Mm. What?"

"Do you want food," Albert repeats. He's feeling a lot more patient, now. Biology doesn't seem so bad. "Gonna have to get your help some other time, so."

As if something's occurred to him, then, Finch sits up. Fixes Albert with a peculiar look, eyes weirdly—soft. "But—you don't have to," he says.

Albert's eyebrows raise. "What?"

"I mean I'll. I'll just help you with your bio, if you want," Finch amends, strangely embarrassed. "You don't have to pay me back."

Hm. New. Something weird and warm and clean lights itself in Albert's stomach. At the idea of Finch helping him 'cause he wants to help him, not to repay a favor. The two of them not owing each other anything.

He smiles, even if he tries not to. A thought for another day, though it's a deal he can certainly live with.

"Shut it," Albert decides. "I'm buying you food. You hungry?"

Finch smiles gratefully. "Starving."

**Author's Note:**

> leave me a comment if u liked this !!
> 
> also heres [my newsies tumblr](https://fakenewsies.tumblr.com) !! come say hi if u feel like it


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